April was off-kilter and weird, including everything from breakfast outside, lots of fresh snow, interior adventures, lots of bad books, Ella Fitzgerald, and a haircut done with embroidery scissors.
Outside: Bright, bright sunshine. The first day you could smell the ocean again (you can’t when it’s very cold outside). Two squat herons. Cat tracks in the snow. Lots of helicopters and military boats. Dry asphalt, in the short-lived Fool’s Spring we had for a week. Daylight for well into the evening, now that we’ve set our clocks to summer time. One glorious day out, buying two nail polishes, trying to flirt with someone (and realizing the pandemic has severely corroded my witty banter abilities), and also buying my own fruit and veg (instead of getting whatever the person packing my online order gives me). Had breakfast on the terrace, safely wrapped in my puffy coat and SPF 30. Inside: Sun into the entire apartment at seven in the morning. Partially lowered blinds on Waiting Days (that is, my most tired days). New-to-me lacy curtains in the bedroom. Packed away the beeswax candles. Also struggling to keep up with housework because of many Waiting Days, and so much dust (any tips for how to have… …
February came and just knocked me off my feet, in a bad way. I had anticipated that January would be hard, but forgot it’s actually February that usually does the most damage for me. I have a five-year journal that lets me see what the same date each year was like, and February has been shit since 2019. This month saw the pandemic “re-opening” of Norway, which came with unhelpful footnotes that vulnerable people “ought to shield, but not isolate themselves.” Not gonna lie, it made me feel pretty left behind, or rather, separate again, just like I was before the pandemic.
A round-up of my January 2022, including the changing light, making soup and shawl, media I liked, and how January is mean to spoonies.